


|the red above hibernia|

by littlekaracan



Series: |by the castles of clonmel| [2]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, It is, Minor Original Character(s), Sibling Bonding, and halt. i love halt too if you couldnt tell, foreshadowing and all that, like really, look bottom line i love caitlyn o'carrick and i Will characterize her, this is mostly fluffy., those are there just to fill the plot tbh i'm not too big on ocs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlekaracan/pseuds/littlekaracan
Summary: Caitlyn struggles to bury her grief. Halt never attempts to. Reunions are had, towers are scaled and shifting accents are aknowledged. The years have done nothing to distance a brother from his sister, and even less to help a sister forget about her brother. For both a Princess and a Ranger, it will not be not an easy path.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeea we stan sibling bonds in this house. this bad boye is gonna have two chapters, and i've written them both, so please just whack me over the head if i forget to upload the next one soon enough. also lame desc i know, but i wanted to have a similar vibe to the first one in the series. yeah it's also a series now. what am i, a writer?

It had been raining outside for days now. Guards were happy to spend some time indoors instead of watching muddy tracks left by horses - as if anyone would be stupid enough to try and misbehave in that damn weather. Caitlyn had heard them muttering behind the door to her room; that it was unfair to stand outside getting involuntarily bathed by nature, that the king was just paranoid as he always was. She gave a little chuckle at that.

The king is a coward. Dangerous words to even think of inside the castle, especially right outside the princess's room. Yet she was not the slightest bit upset by it.

Mostly because they knew she silently agreed with them.

Ferris was not the most confident, not in his rule, not in his life as a whole. The only time he was ever confident at all was in getting rid of the last heir.

 _And look how that turned out_ , she used to tell him. _You murdered your own brother._

It took her a long time to finally muster up the courage to outright accuse him of murder, although the thought had been spinning on the very tip of her tongue for a very long time. And even then, all Ferris did was give her a blank stare and tell her handmaiden to make sure she gets to her room safely – his tone was not threatening but condescending enough to make her blood boil - and that was the end of it.

Caitlyn twirled a strand of hair, wet from standing by the window too long, on her finger. She could feel her lips twisting. She loved her brother, she did. But it had been getting harder and harder to convince herself of that lately.

For a long, long time, she had been forcing herself to believe there was a good person somewhere down there and that her sisterly love had a reason other than 'he's my brother'.

But then, then she remembered sitting by _his_ bed, watching him try to sleep away the sudden nausea. None of them knew where it came from. Later, she did. Later, when he had put a hand on her shoulder, when she saw dark eyes growing darker and darker, and heard a silent whisper. He was afraid of anyone hearing, and she never remembered him being afraid at all.

_He's trying to kill me._

_He's trying to kill me. And with enough time, Cat, he'll do it._

'I fell', everyone else had been told. To her it was revealed - 'He tried to split my skull open.'

She remembered teaching him how to stitch up his own wounds. She remembered stitching the one right above his eyebrow, which he couldn't see.

Then, she remembered latching onto him right before that fishing trip. She did not want to let go. She had been tormented by looming dread for the whole week.

She remembered crying when he did not come back.

She remembered grieving one brother when she was supposed to cherish the other.

And she knew how little she could love someone like Ferris.

Caitlyn shook her head, standing up and stretching a bit to clear out her thoughts. It had been a long time. She should finally try and forget.

Curiously, she poked her head out to say hello to the guards. She'd been known to do that, she'd been known to be lenient and chatty, and she didn't fight those rumours. They were by far the best ones – and, perhaps the most truthful ones - to circle around her.

The young guard - she hadn't seen him before - perked up, clearly startled.

"Your Highness," he rushed to a greeting, a bit louder than most. Caitlyn smiled at him, not particularly wishing to address the fact that she overheard light treason.

"Sir," she nodded, closing the door behind her and leaning back on it. Resting intertwined fingers by her stomach as was polite, she watched him shift, uncomfortable in his standing. He really is young, she thought, and immediately brushed it off. _Around my age, most likely_. "How's the watch going?"

He stared for a second, red-faced, before remembering he had to give an answer.

"It's... It's calm, Your Highness."

"That's too bad, then." Caitlyn refrained from winking at him, as she did when in company of guards she knew better. This one might take anything the wrong way.

"Too bad, Your Highness?" He stammered. She closed her eyes at the address briefly. He had some sort of an accent, Araluenian, but not quite. _Curious_.

"Rather dull, I mean. If I was standing guard, I'd wish for war every second." Not quite princess-like, she swished her arm to the side. "Battle! War! One and the same, really."

Silently, so silently it was barely audible, he disagreed: "I'm sorry, but- It’s, err, I’d think... Not quite."

"No?" Caitlyn tilted her head. He was starting to talk.

"Well, you see, Your Highness--"

"Ditch it."

"I beg your pardon?"

She waved her hand. "The title, ditch it. 'Princess' is alright. Nothing - even better."

He froze for a second, swallowing the order. Then, bowing his head just slightly, he repeated, "I think that battle and war are not completely the same, Princess."

She crossed her arms. "I hear you. What's the difference, then?"

"War is- War. It's more about... politics," he tried, immediately adding, "Not that it's not important, but, um, battle is personal. It's when you have a sword by your throat and three bloody fellows in front of you, and your own sword is somewhere behind you in a puddle. And there are no rules. Even if there were, nobody would uphold them, because battle is unfair. By, uh, by nature. And war is such a big thing. It doesn't touch you, it's distant, in a way, and battle, battle's right in front of you--"

He abruptly fell quiet, undoubtedly regretting even uttering a word. In front of the Princess, no less. The aforementioned Princess, however, was looking at him with wide eyes, very interested indeed.

"You've been to battle?" She asked. He shook his head, eyes planted on the ground.

"My brother's been," he said, and his tone was hoarse. "And he's been to war, too."

Caitlyn understood.

"And the battle did not return him," she guessed. Hesitantly, he nodded.

"The war did. It returned a formal notice and the body, but it was the battle that took his life."

Caitlyn followed his gaze, looking down at the ground herself. They'd only known each other for a short while, and she already felt closer to him.

"I hear you," she repeated, stepping toward him and then to the other side, toward the halls. She wanted nothing less but distraction from the topic of dead brothers, and yet she got this instead. "I'm sorry."

"I am also, Princess-" he raised a hand politely, stopping her in a tone that had shifted all too suddenly. Polite. Formal, even. "You're to stay in your chambers."

"...A singular chamber, you mean. My room." She sighed, unable to help it. "You're telling me I'm grounded." Gracing him with a half-smile, she looked up at the ceiling. "It's Ferris, isn't it?"

He offered an apologetic look. "Yes, those are the orders of the King."

"And what a King," Caitlyn said, words drenched in irony. "Well, I'm not a child. He can't ground me. You can tell him that."

She turned to go, but - to her surprise - the young guard gently took her by the sleeve, careful not to touch her arm itself. _Chivalry at its finest, I suppose_.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I must see you to your room."

Caitlyn watched those courageous eyes with a sting of sadness in her own.

"Come on. I'll--" Softly, she tried: "--I'll only go and see my husband. Ferris allows me that much."

Keighan wasn't in the castle today. Out on business, as he'd say. But the guard did not know that, and she had never been a bad liar.

And yet, he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness," he repeated, gesturing toward the door.

Caitlyn stared for a second, wistful, and gave up. She could've run, she was relatively speedy under all those skirts, but... _Oh, there’s no point in any of this anyway_. She had no one to run to, really. No reason to run off just because she felt like being silly, not anymore. Besides, she’d only be getting this poor boy into trouble. Before closing the door, the princess nodded.

"It was nice to see someone new, and yet..." She pressed her lips together, and the guard bowed his head.

"I'm only following orders, Princess." He looked sympathetic. There was no doubt nobody had locked _him_ in his room, but the discipline in training was intimidating.

"I know. And so I hope we talk again."

Before he could reply, she closed the door and sighed, leaning on it. It was much easier to convince the other guards to just let her wander for a bit. Not that she did anything significant during her nightly walks. She just lingered on the past too much, these days. _The past is gone_ , Ferris would often say. She shook her head. _Only when you don't want to learn from it_ , she'd bite back, and Ferris would look at her with those empty eyes again and shoo her away with a flick of his finger.

He never learned, not really. There was nothing for him to learn, not yet. But--

Caitlyn was sure a lesson would come eventually. How big of a lesson, she could not predict. A revolt, perhaps, or maybe just a small uprising. Or maybe someone who's completely bored of living will just put a knife through him when he's outside.

Oh, but who was she kidding. Ferris was paranoid. Having killed his own brother, he constantly glanced over his shoulder, expecting another to do the same.

She hated it. It was not her place to dictate his orders, but he was no ruler. He was a self-serving king alike the other five. Hibernia was in shambles. Her home had always been in shambles, for as long as she could remember it. Under her grandfather's rule, under her father's and now under her brother's.

And, amidst those shambles, she stood.

Caitlyn lingered by the window for an unintentionally long while, watching the wind ruffle the reddening leaves and getting covered by the coat of rain. The sun rose again, and she watched it bleed into the clouds, never truly showing herself.

Exhausted, she drifted in and out of consciousness, listening as one guard changed another outside her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you very much for reading!! the second one's like.... 3 times longer. i'm sorry i just didn't want to put a huge timeskip in the middle so i'm chaptering it. please let me know what you think and do drag me over any inaccuracies i managed to include. thank u! <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> think of this as a timeskip of a few years lol we're pulling cliches left and right and i have to say i'm enjoying them quite the amount, i love writing wholesome siblings.

A silent knock roused Caitlyn from her sleep, and, immediately, she rolled over to check not on the door, but on Sean next to her.

Underneath the little tuft of dark hair, the boy's eyes were closed, and she let out a breath she'd been holding, only then jumping to the sound and slowly making her way to the door.

She pulled it open, drooping eyelids and shivering back, only to find her handmaiden fast asleep on the bench right outside the room, a wide shawl obscuring her face. The guard flinched away from the door, glancing at her in question.

They were both too far away to have knocked, and there was nobody else in the hallway. Polite and infinitely more confused, she gifted the guard with a bright smile and closed the door again, looking over the room, empty for the most part. Except, of course, for Sean, who was still sleeping soundly in her bed.

Curious, she fixed the blanked on him, tucking him in.

Before she could sit back down and disregard the noise as a part of some vivid dream, the knock echoed through the room again.

Four precise knocks - one, a pause, then two one right after another, a pause and the last one. It reminded her of something, but it was no time to think - she knew where it was coming from.

Throwing on a doublet (it was Keighan’s – while he hadn’t officially left it to her, she had flat-out refused to throw it out after his death), she carefully stepped toward the window. There was no doubt the knocking had come from there, she did not mistake it. It hadn't rained for a long time in Clonmel. It was silent outside, except for the persistent knocking.

She squinted to see into the darkness, and her head spun.

On the outer windowsill, on the brick edge, a hand had latched on.

Someone was hanging from the wall. With a single hand.

Rightfully appalled, she pressed her palm to the window. Next to it was just a barely open wooden shutter to let some air in when the room would start to get dry - and Caitlyn swore she had closed it before going to bed. Sean didn't handle cold very well.

The person hanging off the _damn tower windowsill_ raised a free hand to knock again. They were standing on a protrusion lower down, but that did not make the feat any less dangerous.

"I can hear you," she said, and the bewilderment in her tone was apparently obvious, because the knocker slowly moved the hand away and gestured toward the shutter. "I'm not going to let you in like that," she warned, grabbing the handle on the cover. Her voice was calm - she took pride in it. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"

"Hey, Cat," came a soft whisper, and she nearly fell where she stood. It was Ferris's voice, distinct and different than usual, hoarse from the cold air of the night. "If you don't pull me up soon, I'm gonna fall."

Feeling suddenly as if she was not in control of her own body, she took a step back. Ferris didn't leave his room at night. Hell, he barely ever left it during the day, too. What could've forced him to get out and stand outside her window - thirty feet above the ground?

How'd he even get there?

"What on earth are you-" her head spun. "Did you climb up the walls?!"

His voice was straining now, and she couldn't place her finger on it, but it sounded wrong. "The shutter, Cat."

"The- The shutter. Yeah, I'll-" She lurched forward, pulling it up and reaching through, offering help. He grabbed her hand without complaint and tugged briefly, enough to grab onto the shutter door. Wordlessly, he pulled himself up and through the hole - thank goodness it was wide enough, Caitlyn thought numbly, still frozen over.

And, as he dragged himself onto the floor, hands dirty from the tower wall and now the wooden boards, he grunted under tension. Finally away from the crazy height, he took a short breath and looked up at her.

It was then that a wave of sickness hit her stomach, along with the sudden realization on why he sounded so wrong at first and how he got up there and how Caitlyn wasn't so sure if opening the shutter was a good idea anymore.

Ferris had not worn a simple gray cloak in his life. Neither did he ever have a necklace of dim silver on his chest instead of the usual shining, polished gold. Ferris had not taken off his braided leather crown since he'd gotten it, and Ferris most definitely did not have a scabbard with two large knives on his hip.

The man was not Ferris. And he seemed somewhat aware that she had come to that conclusion.

He had been slouching with his legs underneath him, having collapsed in place after pulling himself through, his muscles undoubtedly strained, but Caitlyn did not like the knives one bit, and she was more than sure he could jump up at her any second.

Immediately, the first thought that came to her through the panic was Sean, sleeping so small and unaware in her bed which was too large ever for both of them. Her son with big curious eyes and wild hair, the little boy who needed her more than he needed anyone else. Protecting him was more of an instinct than it was a duty.

Before she could leap to him, the man moved.

Abruptly, he reached up and pulled off his hood, then raised his arms just slightly in a gesture of peace, all in one motion.

"Cat," he said in the same voice, serious and calm, and just like Ferris's, but then so different. "Please."

And this was where Caitlyn truly felt her shockwave of the evening.

His hair was sticking out in uneven tufts and there was a visible sunken scar above his temple, but his eyes had found hers and, in a single moment, Caitlyn _recognized_ him _._

The eyes glimmered from their darkness. The eyes stared, not empty but not hopeful either. The eyes were like hers, and, for sure, she knew the man was thinking the same thing.

"You," her voice got through, getting stuck in her throat. The man waited, ghostly still and silent, watching her from the depth of those dark eyes. She parted her lips, and nothing came out for a while.

He still waited, palms still raised and facing her. He wouldn't move. She couldn't confirm who he was when he wasn't moving and it was absolutely infuriating.

Shaking her head, Caitlyn tried to rid it of thought and, more importantly, of dumb hope. It always gets crushed first.

"You're not- You're not who I think you are," she finally concluded. The man's single eyebrow rose slowly and she only took another step back. "You're dead. You died a long time ago."

He leaned forward, careful not to scare her, and his face twisted into what seemed more like a grimace than a smile.

"Contrary to what you might think," he said, and Caitlyn resisted the urge to cover her ears, to block out the soft voice she knew she remembered, the voice which the years couldn’t twist enough for her to forget. "A boy with three limbs can swim just fine."

"There is a grave for you," she tried again, not knowing why she was fighting so hard against hope. But there was none - there had been none for so long, for _so long_ , but he had the unruly eyes and the little scoff and he had been watching her in complete understanding and _was it him? Was it him?_ "There is a tombstone in the graveyard--"

"--Right next to Mother and Father's graves, if Ferris learned anything from his few lessons," the man cut her off, his lips tugging up in something that now could be called a shadow of a smile.

For the last time, looking at him and finding something she had missed for years and years, she threw her last defense. "He sent search parties after you. They found nothing. They found nothing at all."

"They did not find me because I didn't want them to." Finally, he broke eye contact, eyeing the window to his side again, his eyes wandering across the darkness, strangely unfocused. "It wasn't my intent to abandon home. But nothing ever goes the way we want it to, Cat. For some goddamn reason, nothing ever does."

He did not look like a child at all anymore, but, after that single moment of what felt like fire running through her veins and winds shattering her mind, Caitlyn stood before her brother.

He saw her recollection and slowly, slowly moved his hands down. Then outward. To her.

"Cat," he called, and she stepped down, crashing to the ground with her arms around as much of him as she could reach, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

"Halt," she muttered into his cloak, feeling him rest his chin on top of her head. He didn't pull her closer. Maybe he didn't have enough strength for it. Maybe he was fine with her latching onto him for dear life.

She felt like she could have remained there, hugging him for the rest of the time that the universe felt like sparing her. She had no idea she'd missed him this much - maybe she hadn't, not before he showed up. Maybe she'd mourned and made her peace, granted, she lingered much longer than she should've - then, how should she have greeted a person she had loved more than anything, a brother she had buried?

"How'd you get here?" She asked, and it sounded so much more simple than it really was.

"You let me in through the window."

"No, I-" she let out a shaky chuckle. "I mean, how'd you climb up?"

"Practice," he answered easily, and she quirked up.

"Teach me." When she was a little girl, there was always something her older brother could teach her, and she'd ask him to quite a lot. Even when it wasn't plausible. As it was now.

"Can't get through seven years in a night, I'm afraid."

 _Won't you stay home now,_ she wanted to ask. She wanted to ask so badly, but she'd known the answer before uttering a word. These clothes were not Hibernian. The necklace was not Hibernian. _He_ was no longer Hibernian, and foreigners rarely stayed in Hibernia for long. And getting to see him and to hug him - accompanied by the knowledge that he was alive, he was _alive_ \- it might've been just enough.

"I'm sure you can," she chuckled, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "You just don't want to."

"No, I don't," he agreed, and Caitlyn looked up at him. She was about to ask for a reason, but something else got in the way.

"You have an accent," she noted, her voice odd. Halt blinked.

"I'm... aware?" He squinted at her in confusion. "You do too, you know."

"No, I don't mean it like that. You don't sound Hibernian anymore."

"No?" He was silent for a moment, probably mentally reciting what he'd said in the past minute. _Did he even notice? Was there anyone who could've told him?_

"No. It's not that you sound completely different, it's just-" she shrugged. "Your common talk cleared up. Where were you?"

"Nowhere much."

He was avoiding it. She tore herself off him. "Hey, Halt, don't lie to me."

It felt nice to say his name and have someone answer.

He was staring for a while. Not judging her, Caitlyn wanted to think that her brother trusted her still, but there was something that told her this man had been burned by trust and most definitely didn't like the flame. Understandably.

Gently, he pushed her off and stood up, lending her a hand as she did. She took it and squeezed, unwilling. He wasn't going yet, it hadn't been enough time at all. He couldn't go just yet.

Without so much as a word, he let her hold onto him.

"Remember when I was a little girl, and you let me climb with you? On the roof?" She said, a nearly feverish feeling burning through her face, flashing through her fingers as she dug her nails into his sleeve. He listened, waiting for her to continue. "And we'd sit on the edge. And we'd watch the sky, and you'd always fall asleep because you were tired and I'd follow right after, and you'd never sleep for long and then drag us back because you were scared I'd fall off and-" she was trailing off, but he hadn't silenced her. Halt merely watched. It was almost as if he couldn't remember it until she told him. Living through a memory so distant she had to dig through for him. "I'm saying," she finally finished, grabbing both of his hands, "Let's do it again. Just once."

Sean, she thought immediately after she said it. _Was Sean okay?_

He had been sleeping through a lot, strangely - through talking and through unspilled tears. Maybe he could sleep through the morning as well. She had tucked him in before coming to the window. He was okay. They were all going to be okay.

Halt seemed to see it in her, too, determination and decisiveness. He was thinking for a while, and Caitlyn saw him hesitate.

"Come on," she said, softly as he had when he greeted her. "I don't fall off anymore. Neither will I fall asleep. Couldn’t."

He sighed and let go of one of her hands.

"Okay," he said, looking through the shutter at the night outside. "Okay. Prove it."

 _Prove it_ , he said with firmness she'd seldom heard before.

"I will," she promised, glancing over her shoulder at Sean for the last time, and, within half a minute, she was outside, hanging on just to the railing under the window. Halt had swung himself out as well, swiftly landing next to her and tugging on the side of her dress. Not for balance, she understood, warmth spreading through her chest, but to keep her still. He may have let her grow up, but he was still her older brother.

She latched onto another protrusion which turned out to be the edge of an ornament in the wall. It was a coat of arms of some sort, and so she wondered for a little if climbing over it meant she was defiling it in one way or another.

Halt had already gone up and over it, no concern for any symbols of the country (not that he ever had much) or even himself, if somebody were to look at them from aside. Caitlyn had been more careful in her trip, thoroughly checking every brick she grabbed while Halt just sort of chanced every single one of his leaps. Or maybe he'd just been climbing so much it was in his muscle memory.

Either way, he did not seem to have settled down as a farmer somewhere in the countryside and she was fully intending to corner him about it.

When it was time, however.

She slipped suddenly, her ankle twisting in an uncomfortable manner, and her fingers nearly let go of the side of the wall. Something jumped in her as she grabbed on, held on and looked up to nod at Halt, realizing that the near fall only made her let out a frustrated sigh, not a gasp, not fear. Halt looked as if he'd read it off her face, his lip twisted into a half-smile after the initial worry and he swung himself up, finally, onto the edge of the roof.

He didn't offer her a hand, and she was only glad for it. She pulled herself up, raising her skirt so she wouldn't get tangled in it, and stood. Oh how she wanted to turn around and see how high they were already, but Halt was still walking, this time to the side of the tower of the watch. He stood on the ridge, right by the wall of the tower, and beckoned her to come up next to him.

As neatly as she could, she pulled the skirt further back and made her way up the hip and to Halt, raising her arms for balance as she went.

She settled next to him, resting her hand on his shoulder as he bowed his head toward the view over her shoulder.

She held on to his shoulder a bit tighter, her head spinning not from the height but the wonder. They stood above the castle, above Clonmel, above Hibernia, maybe even above the whole world. Dark woods unfolded beneath her, and the dusty road to the castle, and the huts and houses of the people. The sky shone pale white light down onto them, casting shadows. The castle had a shadow as well, one with two insignificant dots on top. She wanted to point those two out to Halt, but, as she turned to look, she saw him having freed himself from her grasp and sat down on the ridge.

His eyes were closed, a single strand of hair blown back by the breeze. It was significantly longer than the rest, and Caitlyn stifled a chuckle.

"Who did that to your hair?" She followed him, sitting down as well. "It looks horrible."

"Oh, such a tragedy, really," he replied, deadpan. "Some heathen decided to cut my hair with my own knife when I was half-asleep."

"So you did that to yourself?" Caitlyn could barely swallow her laughter. "Why? Your hair was nice. Long, all that."

"Wasn't my choice." His hand went up, but, instead of tugging on his hair, landed awkwardly still on his shoulder. He didn't take it off. "Not the first time, at least. It was muddy and tangled, I couldn't have brushed it completely anyway."

"You had more chances," she said, and, somehow, she felt like this wasn't about his hair anymore.

"I did. Didn't feel like keeping it." He opened his eyes and they stuck on the dark woods in the distance, reflecting. "I wanted to be someone else."

"It's not good to be someone you're not," she tried, but Halt shook his head.

"I'm the only one who has a say in who I am, Cat."

"Who are you, then?"

His glance skittered before focusing on her. Slowly, he tiled his head.

"I'm your brother, right now."

"Who else?"

"Only that, to you."

"And what about those seven years when I thought I only had one brother left?" Caitlyn pried. She felt like she was pushing it, but she was allowed some form of anger as well, dammit. "What about the time when I had to mourn the brother I loved? You weren't my brother, then. You were dead."

"I spent every waking second of my life trying to forget Ferris, but not you." Halt was watching her again, waiting for a reaction, be it a punch or some tears. "Believe it or not, Cat, I didn't want to die. Ferris wasn't going to give me a choice, so I made my own. Maybe I could've done better. Maybe all of us could've done better." His eyes got clouded for a moment. "But I'm here now, you know. I'm alive, and I'm glad to see you're alright too."

"You at least knew I was alright. And I knew nothing."

"I didn't _want_ to chance more attempted murder from my own brother. If I would have, you may have known something about me, but I'd like to think knowing of my corpse would've definitely been worse than knowing nothing," he bit, and she went quiet. He didn't have a choice, she knew it, and yet few things could make up for seven years of missing someone.

"Where did you go?" She asked again, and, this time, Halt didn't hesitate all that much.

"Away," he answered. Caitlyn smiled, looking down beneath them, exploring the pathways of the woods and the roads in the faraway mountains. Unprompted, Halt specified, "I'm in Araluen a lot, these days."

"A lot?" She pried, and, for the first time that night, he made a quiet noise that faintly resembled laughter.

"I live there, now. I'm a Ranger."

That was the word she expected, that was what she'd distantly realized when she first laid her eyes on the cloak and the necklace, but the simple way he'd said it and the hint of pride in his tone was something else entirely. She hadn't heard Halt be outright delightfully _proud_ of something since, well. She really hadn't heard it in a while.

She knew of them, of course. She'd heard that Araluen grew tens of times stronger when the Ranger Corps reassembled and that there were battles and struggles, but the land is now at peace, mostly thanks to them. And, as she turned her head to see Halt's gaze pointed firmly on the clear horizon, she wondered how much of it he'd seen. How much of it he'd felt. How much war and how much death had he been in the center of.

"I guessed it," she said.

Halt didn't move an inch. "I would not have." His voice was quieter, now.

"If there were two things you could've been, they were a King and a Ranger," Caitlyn assured, and he snorted.

"Or dead," he added. She shook her head. "You believed it. You told me yourself."

"I convinced myself I believed it," she corrected. "For my own peace of mind, and for Sean. I didn't want to raise him on empty hope--"

She stopped in her tracks as she remembered that Halt had no idea who Sean was. He had no idea she had a son. And, truly, he had turned his eyes to her, mild curiosity among the darkness.

"I-... Keighan died, you knew that?"

Even her husband's name felt so foreign on her tongue she could barely twist it. Whereas Halt's, after she'd confirmed it was him, came so easily. Maybe her husband really had grown foreign to her after his death that her own body rejected his name. Either way, they had not shared a long life, despite a man’s doublet she wore over her shoulders. But they did share a son, flesh and blood of both of them, and it was enough to remember him.

"Your Sire?" Halt called with barely audible mockery in his voice. Caitlyn stifled a laugh. She used to call Keighan that just before they married - and, to be honest, it really was more of a dumb nickname than a formal necessity.

"Yes, him." She looked on. It did not hurt anymore. It had not hurt for long, really. Nothing had hurt for long after Halt disappeared. "After- Well, not long after we had a son."

She felt Halt flinch next to her so sharply that he nearly slipped off the roof. She spun to him, grabbing his sleeve for support as he stared her down, eyes wider than she'd seen that night.

"You had a-?" He had something in his throat. Caitlyn only gave a small, thin smile to that. Swallowing his surprise, he repeated, "You had a child?"

"We did." She bowed her head toward the ground, toward her room. "He was asleep when we left. I don't know how you didn't wake him up. Ferris always would, however quiet he tried to be." Another chuckle forced its way through as she recalled Ferris trying to sneak past Sean, and the baby immediately tearing his eyes open and starting to cry. "He only stays asleep when I'm there." She thought for a moment, and added, "And, well, now you too, I suppose.

Halt looked like she'd just dropped a boulder on him, briefly shaking his head, eyes no longer unnaturally wide, but there was a clear strange glimmer somewhere in there.

"You had a son," he echoed, looking her up and down again. She was just grinning now, a bright and joyous smile she hadn't managed to summon in a long time.

"Sean," she reminded. "Your nephew."

"He's... Yeah." He shook his head again, drowning that sparkle, and managed to tear his eyes off Caitlyn to bury them in the blankets of the forests below them again. "Did you pick it out?"

"I did." _It's such a... Well.... A commoner name, Cat_ , Ferris had said. Caitlyn, ashes in her hair and fire in her eye, had dug her heels in and told him, short and to the point, that if he didn't let her name her own child, she would gladly name his uncle’s grave. There had been no more discussions, after that. _Sean it is_ , she had whispered softly over her baby, that night. Ferris rarely called him by that name, however. "It was a... challenge, truth to be told."

"Of course it was." Halt raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Didn't anyone suggest you name him after Keighan?"

"Everyone, at first," Caitlyn said bitterly, and he snorted.

"Couldn't get in your way, could they?"

"Not as long as I can hold a knife and an attitude. I'm a lady like that." She managed a smile again, and, with a hint of guilt in her voice, admitted, "I never picked up your bow again. Remember, when you tried to teach me and I kept dropping the arrow? I dropped it again, the first time I tried without you. And I just- Stopped trying, after that."

Somehow, she felt like she had betrayed him by giving up. Somehow, she felt like she had been a disappointment. That's when she picked up knives and arrows of crossbows, and they had flown into her targets one after the other.

Halt didn't react to her confession at all.

"If you ask me, I'll say I've shot enough arrows for the both of us at this point," he pointed out, lightly tugging on the strap of his quiver. _It hadn't been there before- did he leave his arrows on the roof? Did he know she'd ask him to come with?_ He'd always known a lot of things.

"Oh. Ranger, all that," she remembered, lightly poking at his side. He moved away without a word, and she laughed. Truly, it was just her brother.

Then, she fell into abrupt silence before she asked, breathless in her care, "Are you happy? In Araluen? Are there any people, who... You know?"

"I'm not a child, Cat. I can handle my social life."

She couldn't resist it. "You don't mean that you actually _have_ one, now, do you?"

Halt bowed his head, giving a chuckle and letting her win. She watched him for a moment, trying to etch his smile as deep into her memory as she could. Her brother, who was not dead and who was a Ranger and who seemed happy, smiling. Right here.

Caitlyn, feeling like nothing but a little girl fascinated with her older siblings, shifted closer to him, and, unceremoniously, dove under his arm for another hug, sliding her hands around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. He let his arm silently drop onto her back. They were warm, even though the sun was not. Not yet.

"I talk to the guards a lot," she muttered into his shirt. He moved little, listening. "There's one a bit younger than me. Initially, he reminded me of myself. That was a few years ago, though. Now, Sean's wrapped him around his little finger."

"He sounds like a boy."

"Isn't he? He hasn't been to battle yet." _To battle, and to war. Two different things._ She pulled him closer, as close as can be. "You were a boy too, when you died."

"I didn't die, Cat, I thought we had that figured out."

"No, you died," she disagreed softly. "The other you. The boy. You're not the same. You're not a boy, now. It's not bad, because I love you either way, and you know that. And as long as you love me either way as well, it's not bad. It's not bad at all, as long as you promise me you're happy the way you are."

"Are you?"

Caitlyn gave it some thought, although none was needed. She had not been this warm in the chest since- Well, probably since Sean was born. And, before that? It had always only been her brothers. Together, and then not at all.

"I am."

She felt something shake in him, and it was not the morning cold.

Carefully, he let on, "I've met people. A lot, really." It was her turn to keep still and silent. "There was a Ranger who fixed up my bow. He cut my hair too, at first."

"You didn't know how to do it?"

"No, I did. He just, well." Halt raised his head, gaze lost somewhere deep in the woods below them. "He knew better. When I think about it, he always knew better. Pritchard was the name. A good man, above all else."

And, through that wistful eye, Caitlyn read out his heart. "He's dead. He's dead, isn't he?"

"He's dead," Halt confirmed, closing his eyes. "But it was him who told me not to dwell on the dead too much."

"And he was right." Caitlyn recalled dark nights, not unlike this one but different, nights when it felt like nobody listened to her and nobody could quite understand how awful she felt. Nights when she could’ve screamed and cried but she had no strength left to. And nights when Ferris wouldn’t shoo her away, when they’d talk about this and this and this and it’d feel just like before except it would be so, so empty. And those turned into nights when she couldn’t even look at him proper because he still reminded her of Halt.  "I think I would've liked him."

"Oh, no. Who you would've liked would be Crowley." Halt tilted his head, a little smile creeping up onto his face. "Although - I'm sure you'd like him now, too, seeing as he's very much alive. Too alive for my liking, sometimes."

"Yeah?" She urged him on, and he didn't hesitate much.

"Yeah. He's got red hair. That's half his personality, really."

"All of his looks too, I bet," she poked, and he only snorted.

"Don't go there. His eyes are bigger than his soul. Pale as all hell, too."

"Stop trying to set me up with a boy I haven't even seen," she ridiculed him. He shook his head in mock disbelief.

"I'm not sure which one would snap first, but one of you would kill the other eventually. Too much flame in one house will burn it down in its time," he warned. Caitlyn nodded.

"Noted. That's why you're there, huh? To give him a smack over the head every once in a while."

He tried to bite back a smile, failing to Caitlyn's delight.

"Maybe that's why we're friends, if you boil it down to that."

"A flaming pretty boy and a gloomy exile, what a duo."

"I'll swallow 'gloomy exile', but, Cat, if I had a coin for every freckle he tries to cover up with his collar, I could probably buy an army big enough to take back the throne of Clonmel."

She let go of his waist, instead latching onto his arm in a fit of giggling. It was abruptly cut off as she let the silence settle in along with the immediate thought.

"Would you?"

"What?"

"The throne. If you had the chance, would you take it back?"

Just like her, he didn't need to think at all.

"No." Halt raised his free hand to brush some hair off her forehead. "That doesn't mean I'd want to leave you in the dark again, but that throne has done nothing but convince me that the whole world hated me ever since I could walk, no matter what I did."

"The world doesn't hate you."

"I know. I know, because I saw it, and I know people who've felt the same and who know better. And I know better, too, now." He splayed his fingers, catching a sunbeam on his palm. "People are better than I thought, Cat. Turns out they are. Crowley and Pritchard and the Araluenian King, and the Corps, and Pauline. They're better."

Again, it slipped off her tongue. " _Please_ tell me about your Pauline."

Probably having expected that, Halt shook her off his arm softly.

"No."

"Oh, come on."

"I told you about Crowley."

"Yeah, he's not a girl."

"Hey, there's not that big a difference. They're my friends."

"Does Pauline hide her freckles too?"

"She doesn't have any."

"Oh, good, what does she have then?"

He sighed, but there was too much light in it for it to be of genuine disapproval. "Caitlyn, I planned on staying until proper sunrise, but I think you just beckoned the sun out completely."

"Of course I did." Then, her smile froze on her face as she swallowed his words. "Wait, just until sunrise?"

He looked on to her, and only now did she see the looming regret in his eye. Red light was reflected off the equally red roof.

"I have to go back. The Corps need their Rangers, and me being on an unofficial visit with no mission doesn't help at all." Attempting to lighten the situation, he added, "Although he did relent in the end, Crowley nearly threw a chair at me when I asked about it initially."

"I- I, ah- Heavens, I thought you'd stay longer! For a few days, at least-!" Caitlyn's mind blanked once more as she realized time was running out. She didn't expect that. She would've asked serious questions, she would've made use of their short hours, she wouldn't have poked at him and laughed with him for as long just because she hadn't seen him for so many years, she would've had better answers and she would've-

"Cat, I'm not running off to die in a ditch." Very slowly, he took her hand. His was bigger than hers, even after all this time. "I'll see you again, anyway. I just wanted it to be sooner rather than later."

"Right, but you still could've..."

"No, didn’t want to see your time management skills, I wanted to see you for what you've grown to be. And you have grown. And I’d like to think that we're both better off with ourselves like this."

She remembered the pride in his voice when he spoke of the Corps, and her wide grin when she told him about Sean. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was better.

"So you're happy," she concluded, silently but surely.

"And you are, too."

She nodded. And, for the last time before he could stand up, she lurched to him again, pulling him as close as she could, for just a minute.

"Don't you die out there, Halt," she told him, and felt his shoulders shake with laughter. Or at least it sounded like laughter.

"Don't worry. Just take care of yourself. And of your son."

"Your nephew."

"Yeah. Sean, right?"

"Right."

He kissed the top of her head gently before letting her go.

"Don't you die out there," Caitlyn repeated as he made his way to the edge of the roof again. "You hear me?"

He stood at the very brim where the bricks ended, and spun, his heels nearly off the edge. There was no smile on his face, but a rather knowing look. He wore it often, before he died. It was his way of smiling, really. If she looked hard enough, she could see it in his eyes.

"I'll see you soon, Cat," he promised.

Then, barely raising his hand in a gesture of good bidding, he swayed and fell backwards into nothing.

She gave a sharp gasp and leaped to the edge. Peering over, she saw the height that made her head spin. She saw the windows and the balconies, and the grass that had been turned into green mash by the distance.

However, she didn't see her brother.

"A Ranger," she muttered to nobody in particular, wrapping her arms around herself and looking up at the red red sun, caring little about the dark spots in the sides of her eyes. "Do all Rangers do that, or did he just manage to meet all the wrong ones?"

She made her way back down very slowly, noting the cold surfaces she had not felt before. Her hands had been on fire along with her heart, and they were not anymore. He was gone.

Until next time, he was gone, and, now, all she had to do was wait.

Well- she'd waited seven years. For every one she has to wait again, Halt will earn a decent punch when he comes back. And she throws good punches, she’s been told.

Her silent entry back into her room surprised even her. Sean was still asleep - she could hear his silent breathing from her bed.

"Good morning, sunshine," she called in a whisper, and he muttered something only he could understand before sinking back to sleep.

Giving a chuckle much lighter than she had before that night, she went to settle down next to him just before a hand knocked on her door. She looked up to see her handmaiden sneaking in, and her eyes widening in surprise of her usually rather sleepy mistress already up and cradling her child.

"Did no more nightmares bother you, Your Highness?" The handmaiden asked, batting her eyelashes in genuine concern. The guard probably had told her of her nightly confusion, and she made assumptions. She was a good girl, barely more than a lanky child, really.

Caitlyn graced her with a pleasant nod as Sean stuttered and babbled himself awake. Watching him tear his eyes open and give a toothless grin at the mere sight of her, she flicked his nose up softly with a single finger. Promptly, he latched onto it.

"Oh, I had nothing but good dreams, my dear." Caitlyn smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so that'd be it for this fic lads!! thank you v much for reading!! i appreciate every pair of eyes skimming through my brain vomit. i get that actual siblings aren't as sweet-eyed at each other as those two, but ferris and halt are pretty much the epitome of the somewhat realistic 'i could actually physically murder you' dynamic and i wanted to have caitlyn be wholesome. fjghjgf thank u for giving my stuff a chance


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